I Have Sinned
by Rookblonkorules
Summary: Ed still has one more confession to make regarding the death of Hughes.


**Note:** You know the frustration of wishing your favorite characters would actually, you know, _talk _to each other? Yeah, me too. I know it well. (To be fair, the characters on this show do a better job of talking it out then the characters in some of my other fandoms. *pokes Batman with a stick*) So... I could actually figure out where to fit this in the show- somewhere between Ed going to see Gracia and Elicia and Mustang faking Ross's death- but I wasn't sure I could make it work with canon. And because the plot bunny was gnawing on my brain, I was about halfway through with this before that thought hit me. And then I wasn't sure I wanted to continue it, because... I wanted it to fit in with canon. And then, because I hate giving up on a story, I said, "Whatever," and wrote it out. I hope you will all forgive me.

* * *

Ed paused, hand resting on the heavy wood door to his superior's office.

His throat felt thick, pressure gripping his chest like a vice.

Blood was pounding in his ears, making it hard for him to think. He lowered his head, trying to sort through the emotions pouring through his brain.

He had to go in there with a clear head.

How funny it was that only a few hours ago, he had been so angry that he never wanted to see the man again.

Now he was returning of his own volition.

_Not like I want this too._

He shut his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose.

"Sir?"

He jerked his chin up, turning to see Riza Hawkeye at his side.

At this point, he wasn't even alarmed that the woman had managed to approach him without his knowledge.

His eyes flickered over her, taking in the set of her jaw, the lingering sorrow in her expression, before he dropped his gaze again.

"Oh," he said softly. "Hey, Lieutenant."

"Edward," the lieutenant said quietly. Her hand rested gently on his shoulder, "I know how this must feel to you." Ed's shoulders tightened, but he said nothing. "But try to remember that he's hurting too."

Ed jerked in surprise, turning to face her, but she had already turned away from him. Having said her piece, she was leaving him to think it over. He watched her receding back for a moment, before turning back to the door- and problem- right in front of him.

He bit his lower lip, watching her receding back.

She didn't turn once to look back at him.

There was nothing accusatory in her tone of voice, but Ed's skin still prickled with shame all the same as if there had been.

She was right, he knew.

Actually, Ed would be hard pressed to come up with a scenario where she _hadn't _been right. He wasn't sure there had ever been one.

Hughes had been Mustang's best friend, though there hadn't been two more different individuals in all of Amestris, he was sure.

Ed flattened his flesh hand against the hard wood of the door, brow scrunching.

He could still leave. He didn't have to do this.

He swallowed painfully, knowing that that was a lie.

The Colonel might not be his favorite person right now, but Hughes had been his best friend.

He had to do this.

He steeled himself, formed his automail hand into a fist, and knocked.

Nothing.

No answer.

Either Mustang had completely barricaded himself off from the rest of the world and was refusing to see anyone and everyone or he knew exactly who it was outside his door and wanted nothing to do with him.

_Of course he knows, you idiot. You used your automail arm. Metal on wood sounds a lot different than flesh._

So the latter then.

Well, that solved one problem then. He would go home and tell Alphonse that the Colonel was being an idiot and that really there was nothing he could do about it.

Ed dropped his arm down to his side.

He should be relieved- overjoyed even- that he didn't have to do this.

Except he wasn't.

A sick feeling churned in his gut as he turned away from the door, shoulders slumped.

Oh, well.

At least no one could say he hadn't tried.

"Come in."

The gruff voice was as unexpected as it was sudden.

Ed turned back to the door, hesitating.

He took the knob gingerly, as though it might burn him (and considering who was on the other side, was that really so far-fetched?).

When nothing happened, he turned it, gently pushing the door open.

The Colonel's back was to him, which, Ed decided, made things easier for him.

This way, at least, he had a moment to collect himself before he had to look Mustang in the eye and tell him the reason his best friend was dead.

"Well, Fullmetal?" Ed may have imagined it, but he was pretty sure he detected an extra special bite to Mustang's words this time. "Don't keep me waiting. I haven't got all day."

Ed dropped onto the couch, not because he thought that was what the Colonel would have wanted, but because he didn't think his legs could hold him up for much longer.

"There's…" He shut his eyes, trying hard to keep his voice from trembling. "There's something you need to know."

He inhaled shakily. The palm of his flesh hand felt clammy, his insides cold and knotted.

If he were being honest, he was… he was terrified of this moment.

"It's about Hughes."

Even without looking up, he knew that he had Mustang's complete and undivided attention now.

"And… how he died."

His voice had dropped to a near whisper- it was as if he were physically incapable of raising his voice any higher- that he was afraid Mustang hadn't heard.

Mustang swiveled his chair around immediately, and to Ed it seemed that he was very careful to keep his tone neutral when he spoke.

"You know something?"

The hard glint in his eyes, the eagerness that he was barely managing to restrain behind an air of cool indifference, it all caught Ed by surprise. He almost winced when he realized how his words must have sounded to Mustang.

Ed wasn't the Lieutenant- he couldn't read Mustang's every move, every _breath,_ and figure out what the man wanted to have for lunch. Even still, he could see the disbelief that sparked in his eyes and, underneath that, the interest, despite his maintained aura of impassivity. He could see it in the tightness of his shoulders, as if every nerve hardwired beneath the surface was pulled taut.

The sickness returned.

"I… don't know who killed him. Or why." Ed dropped his gaze to his lap. His flesh knee was bouncing to a nervous rhythm. He forced it to stop.

"I just…"

_Get it out. Get it over with._

Ed shut his eyes tightly and dropped his head, hands clasped and hanging between his knees. His mouth was dry, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. "It was my fault." He spoke quickly, the words nearly blending together in their effort to tumble off his tongue. "What happened to Hughes- it was my fault."

He was shaking, he realized.

"What?" Ed didn't need to look up to know the Colonel was absolutely dumbstruck. "Fullmetal, what are you…?"

"I got him involved!" Ed clenched both his fists and stood. "He was helping Al and me. Whatever he found that… that got him killed, he was doing it for us."

To his horror, he realized that he had started crying somewhere in the middle of his confession. He hadn't cried when he had faced Gracia and Elicia (though he had damn well wanted to.). Why was he breaking down in front of Mustang? Of all people?

A noise had Ed cautiously raising his eyes and he saw that Mustang had risen from his chair. His back was to him, one hand brought to his face as he stared out the window.

"What did you idiots get yourselves into this time?" His voice was low, dark.

The familiar feeling of his hackles raising threatened to sweep him away (and later he would wonder if that was Mustang's intent), before he remembered that this was _Hughes._

This was Hughes and he was _not _going to lose control of his temper here.

Not when his death was what he had come to discuss.

Hughes deserved more respect than that.

"He was always such a damn fool."

The words were so soft spoken, tinged faintly with a fondness that he had never heard from Mustang, that Ed almost didn't catch them- and he wondered if they were meant for his ears at all.

"How could you say that?" Ed asked, unable to raise his voice above a whisper. "He was your _friend."_

"Yes," Mustang turned then, allowing Ed a look at the grief just beneath his surface, "he was." His voice was steady as a rock, dark and low, yet its undercurrents trembled with some emotion Ed couldn't place and didn't think he could try. "And a damned good one."

He dropped his gaze, shame twisting his gut into a knot. He had no business casting judgement on Mustang. Not when _he _had been the reason Hughes had even been looking into what had gone down. Not when _he _had been the reason a wife and daughter were widowed and orphaned.

His bottom lip trembled. "I'm sorry." The words were so soft he might as well have barely breathed them.

"Fullmetal!" The name was barked out as an order, plain and simple.

Startled, Ed snapped his head up.

The Colonel was standing, both hands planted on his desk, glaring right at him.

"I want you to listen to me closely because you need to understand this." Ed could see the muscles in his throat working. "No one- and I mean _no one-_ forced Maes Hughes to do anything. He had a heart of gold and he helped people because he _wanted _to. The last thing he would have wanted was your brother and you holding yourselves responsible for his death. Do you understand me?"

"But…"

"Do. You. Understand. Me?"

Ed's mouth snapped shut and he managed only a nod in response.

"Good." Mustang lowered his shoulders, allowing himself to sink back into his chair. "You're dismissed."

Ed blinked at him.

Mustang raised an eyebrow. "Have you gone deaf? I told you you're dismissed."

Ed drew in a sharp breath, nodding sharply. He turned away, hand on the door, ready to exit.

"And, Fullmetal?" Mustang's voice stopped him.

"Yeah?" He half-turned, heart in his throat.

"Thank you." Mustang wasn't even looking at him anymore. "For coming to me."

* * *

**Note: **Yes, I'm forcing you to endure another one of these notes. This one had to be included at the end, because it was something I didn't want to discuss until people had finished the story.

In any case... eh, I wasn't sure how I felt about this one. I'm not as proud of it as I am _The Art of Caring (_speaking of which, if any of you guys are returning here after reading that story, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.) and something felt a bit off. It took me a moment to put my finger on it (Actually more than a moment- a long while of staring at the ceiling, muttering, "Where the heck did I go wrong?" Ah, the life of a writer.) but they feel a bit subdued to me. No name-calling or anything. It made me a bit nervous at first, but I suppose if there was ever a situation to be subdued, it would be one like this. I'm really hoping it isn't too OOC.

Depending on where the plot bunnies take me (sooo much Parental RoyEd and Edwin bouncing around in my head right now), I may write a different take on this scene, dealing with a few other aspects.


End file.
